


What Am I Getting Myself Into

by dogtierjade



Series: The Clintasha Files [1]
Category: Avengers, The Avengers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-08
Updated: 2012-06-08
Packaged: 2017-11-07 07:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/428693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogtierjade/pseuds/dogtierjade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe taking Tony up on the offer to go /dress/ shopping was a dumb idea. Especially since the dress wasn’t for Tasha. It was for him. How Stark ever got him into this, he’d never know. Not that he could really contemplate that with the idiot yelling in his ear about color coordinated doves and ribbons. Really, how much color could even be at a wedding? He thought it was all white with a splash of black or something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Am I Getting Myself Into

Maybe taking Tony up on the offer to go /dress/ shopping was a dumb idea. Especially since the dress wasn’t for Tasha. It was for him. How Stark ever got him into this, he’d never know. Not that he could really contemplate that with the idiot yelling in his ear about color coordinated doves and ribbons. Really, how much color could even be at a wedding? He thought it was all white with a splash of black or something. Maybe that’s why he needed Stark to help. Most likely not. Tasha didn’t seem to care either way. He took it as a cue to listen in when the lunatic started raving about sweetheart necklines. Whatever that was, he didn’t want to find out.

 

“When did this become your wedding, Stark,” Clint asked, sliding his blue eyes over to the idiotic man sitting next to him, “I thought Tasha would tag along.” 

Not that he blamed her. If you didn’t get paid to hang around Stark, chances are you didn’t hang out with him. Tasha was most likely with Pepper, actually having /fun/. Not hearing about necklines and bodice. This had to be a joke, a really bad joke. A Stark joke.  
Tasha refused to wear a dress. She had set that in stone almost as soon as Clint had proposed to her. So, Stark decided somebody /had/ to wear a dress. He was gonna punch him in his thick, Billionaire head. Or maybe his crotch. God forbid the man breed. Of course with the way he made eyes at Steve, breeding was not an option. Clint figured he might as well sterilize the man anyways, just in case. It’d be for the good of humanity.  
They made it to the shop unharmed, one less strike for Tony in Clint’s Who To Kill book.

“So Stark,” he began, trying not to look at the horribly gaudy store outside the limo window, “When are you and All-American Hero getting hitched?”

Okay so kinda low blow but screw this, he was at a fucking /BRIDAL SHOP/ for Christ’s sake. He was Clint Barton. Clint fucking Barton. He was a man. A manly man. Manly men didn’t wear dresses. He didn’t need this. Why couldn’t he and Tasha just both be in tuxes? He must have been really wasted when he agreed to Tony’s idea of drag wedding. Then again agreeing to him didn’t seem to be an issue as he agreed to be an Avenger. Really the man must have secret alcohol stashed somewhere to use against people. That’s why he was still breathing. Fury wasn’t a forgiving man. Tony shrugged and opened his own limo door, which in its own was surprising. Opening his door and shuffling out, Clint attempted to shield his eyes from the white, ruffled shop. Oh God this was going to be worse than he thought. What next? Flowers? Never saying that out loud, it may give Tony ideas. 

“Ready my feathered friend?” Stark asked, raising one of his stupidly perfect plucked eyebrows, “Tasha wouldn’t appreciate waiting.” 

Clint let out a huff at that. As if Tasha gave a shit about the ceremony. She was too practical for this bullshit. If she had it her way, they would have had a closed ceremony where they signed papers in front of as few people as needed, with Dr. Banner as their witness and, hopefully, Tony never even finding out about their married status in the first place. It was all because of his annoying persistence they were even having an official “wedding”. Persistence being Tony Stark. He was tempted to run and elope. Alas that was not an option as Tony Stark or Pepper would find them or worse, call them romantics. Why was he forced to endure this? His Karma must be horribly plagued. He grimaced as he walked into the shop, trying to ignore a certain brown haired man skipping in next to him. 

 

“Why am I even doing this,” Clint asked, rubbing his forehead and taking in the shop, “How do you even live with /yourself/ ?” Tony just grinned and hopped in place next to the archer, “Lots of alcohol my friend.”  
Well at least he was right in the alcohol thing. Maybe he’d tell Tasha to find his stash. “Hello,” a cheery voice rung out as high heels clicked against the gaudy, white tile, “How may I help you gentlemen?”

Clint just ignored her, he could already tell her grating voice was going to give him a migraine. Her curled and horribly bleached blond hair bounced as a wide smile cracked her pancaked face, “Mr. Stark?” Oh great! They knew each other. Tony was a woman. He had to be. “Oh hello Melinda,” the great big /asshole/ said, twirling his fingers in a little wave, “We just need a dress for my little magpie over here.” 

He was going to shoot him. With something blunt. That man deserves all the suffering Clint could bestow upon him. The woman, /Melinda/ he reminded himself, just smiled wider at Clint and turned around, her disgusting purple skirt swishing around her orange legs. What the hell was wrong with people in New Jersey? Were they hellbent on making themselves look like trolls? Granted only some looked this way but it was offending to his poor eyes. Tony patted him on the back and forced him to follow after the troll they called their assistant.  
“Here you are gentlemen,” she said, opening a hideously bright yellow curtain to the dresses. Clint squinted at the dresses lined up on the racks. God, someone kill him. He couldn’t see /one/ that didn’t look bedazzled with a million ugly plastic crystals. He was tempted to put his own bow to his head. Not that he would do that, he didn’t want Tasha to be sad. Not that that woman would show it. It was like she was made of stone. Of course not that that wasn’t fine, he loved her no matter what. Even if she was a cold stone. He let a small smile grace his face which of course Tony took as him being happy about the dresses. 

“See one you like bird brain,” he asked slipping his orange sunglasses up into his hair, “I suggest the one with the deep v.” Clint was going to go Postal. He couldn’t deal with this idiot a moment longer. “I suggest you swallow some acid,” he said back, crossing his arms over his chest, “ Or maybe take a bullet to the head.” Stark let out a laugh at this and shoved him into the dressing room. He was going to burn this place to the ground, he swore it. Maybe that could be their reception party.  
Tasha would certainly enjoy it as long as they pushed Tony inside first. He snorted at the thought but was rudely interrupted from enjoying it any longer by Tony and Melinda bringing in the first dress. Did they kill a pixie? It was absolutely /covered/ in sparkles. “Mr. Stark thought you might enjoy this Mr. Barton,” she said in her high voice, laying it on the bench next to the archer, “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” He had to suppress his gag reflex and look away from it. He going to go /blind/. “I’m not trying this on,” he said simply, still turned away from it, “It’s hideous.” Melinda’s face fell and she picked the monstrosity back up, her ugly satin pumps clicking as she took a step back. 

Tony sighed and rubbed his forehead, as if the idiot had a hard life. He didn’t think it was possible to hate one person this much. Clint was surprised he didn’t combust from the sheer amount of /HATE/ being thrown his way. “I-I’ll get another,” Melinda squeaked out, stepping out of the piss yellow curtains and clicking her fushia satin pumps on the bright white tile. This store was just full of bright colors. He was going to be blind by the time this appointment was over. “Hey bird boy be a little sweeter to the woman,” Stark said sitting next to him, “She is just doing her job.” Hawkeye just glared at him. Did Tony really think he would care? He was unaware a person could be this stupid.

 

Tony Stark made it possible. “Okay Mr. Barton, how about this,” she said as she held up a pure white gown with red trimmings and lace, “No sparkle!” He grimaced and sighed, might as well try it on. Her chalky red lipstick cracked as she smiled wider, reacting to him actually taking the dress from her wrinkled hands. He really, really didn’t want to do this. As he hung it up, he heard her walk out of the room. Unfortunately Tony didn’t do the same. “Well, gonna try it on?” he asked as he gestured to the dress on the hook, “Or are you gonna go all shy virgin on me?” Clint grimaced and flipped the other man off, shedding his pants and shirt. No way in hell was he going to give Stark more ammo to pick on him with. Grabbing the dress off the hook violently, Clint sadistically hoping the silk would rip. He pouted when it came back unharmed, not that he’d ever admit to /pouting/. 

That was unmanly and he was already trying on a dress. Might as well cry over movies on lifetime and eat ice cream while he was at it. He was actually surprised Tony hadn’t started with “so when are you and Natasha’s cycles going to sync up?” jokes. Not that he wanted to give him any ideas.  
Clint rolled his eyes as he started slipping the dress up his legs, shimmying it over his butt. Okay so dresses were annoying. He no longer faulted Tasha for hating them. Well, she didn’t mind short dresses, but they were only for use on missions so she could grab her weapons easily. Enough about Tasha, it was time to lace this piece of shit up. Which, he had to ask Tony to help with. “Stark, you here to help or are you going to just stand there?” Clint asked, holding the dress close to his ribs, “Cause if so get out and stop breathing in my vicinity.” Tony snorted and started lacing up the red ribbons in the back, pulling them taut to try and give Clint a more /feminine/ figure. Not going to happen.

 

After tying the top up, Clint pushed his hands away, trying to keep the pout off his face. Hearing a wolf whistle from the other man he flailed. In a manly way, of course. “Wow Barton, I don’t think Tasha will be able to wait till the end for you.” he said grinning widely and circling Clint like, well, like a hawk, “I like this one.” Oh thank /GOD/ maybe they could leave. “Can we go?” Clint asked, already shuffling out of the dress, “This place smells like roses and lifetime tv.” Tony nodded and walked out, “Call me when you’re done princess!” Oh of course /now/ he leaves. That man was insane and deserved to die. Like, now. Maybe after the wedding, it could be a gift to and from Pepper.

 

Clint hurriedly put his civilian clothes back on and grabbed the dress, trying to hide it under his arm. He never knew when people were going to come into this stupid little shop. Though he doubted he would see anyone he knew, it was better to be safe than sorry. Tony was already at the counter paying for it and chatting up the “woman” behind the register. Though Clint had to hand it to her, she wasn’t as ugly as the woman that /assisted/ them. “Did you boys enjoy the boutique?” she asked as she bit her chapped lower lip between her yellowing teeth. Did Tony take them to a boutique full of ugly old woman? Well and ugly dresses. “Oh yes.” Stark said back, leaning on the light pink colored counter, the only thing in the place that wasn’t colored a blinding neon. The woman giggled and handed him the receipt, closing up her register, “Thank you, stop by anytime!” She was going to be included in his mass murder. Tony nodded at her and waved Clint over, “We will.” Clint hurriedly shuffled past Tony and the woman, making a beeline for the car. 

No way in hell was he going to converse with that woman. She might infect him with her stupid. He really needed to work on not being bitter. Tony followed him out and grinned widely, “Aren’t you excited Robin Hood?” Oh he’d show Stark /excited/. That didn’t make much sense but fuck Tony Stark. Maybe he’d excitedly shove his boot up Iron Man’s ass. That sounded like a good plan. “Lets just get out of here. I’m going to die of neon overdose.” Clint said as he opened the door to the limo and slid across the leather seats, hunching against the window with the dress in his lap. Immediately, Tony started up his incessant babbling all over again, probably something about the wedding, though Clint was trying his hardest not to pay attention. This was going to be a long ride home.

**Author's Note:**

> Bluuh just a crack!fic Clintasha wedding collab I did with http://nautical-nightmares.tumblr.com/


End file.
